Best Friend
by piratesmiley
Summary: Spoilers for Safe. "She’s not ready for that. You’re not ready for that. Drop it." Peter/Olivia.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Spoilers for Safe. A prediction of upcoming episodes.

Warning: Not all of the quotes in this story will be exact.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fringe.

--

"They called me Han."

_I'll be your best friend._

"As in 'Solo'? That's cute, at least you had a nickname."

_I'll be your best friend._

--

She giggles at his card trick; he warms. He tells her its her turn, and she takes this dare as well as the first (the woman can hold her liquor). He learns something new.

"You can count cards," he acknowledges, surprised.

She lets her once-impregnable guard down, smiles her radiant, caught-up smile, and elaborates. She was a loner and a nerd—just like him.

They both smile brighter.

--

He enjoys far too much the way she is watching him, like he holds all the answers—and for that moment, he does.

Peter watches his father pace, remembering and repressing Walter's sex comment. He realizes with a shudder that they would have no where to go if…

_She's not ready for that. _You're _not ready for that. Drop it._

--

He deflates. _She's missing._

His emotions are wild for a split second: The world is turning up on end. No, it's passed that. The world has fallen to the shit. People are doing repulsive, mind-boggling things to each other. Everything's connected. Secrets, lies, science, patterns. Everything's connected.

Normally, _she_ would save the damsel-in-distress, but this time she can't help herself.

His eyes grow wild, shock collapses his face, and he wonders why.

Because everything in the world has been witnessed by this woman. Because nobody ever comes through for her, and she needs you.

_Because she's all alone. Because she saved you._

_Because you want to be her best friend._

He desperately wants to break the cycle.

_I'll be your best friend._

He stills a shudder numbly. He realizes that the longer they are…if this happens again, he'll…it'll only get worse. That's absolutely certain.

_Do you two want to use the room?_

_Happy Birthday._

_-Desperate to save my little boy-_

_I'm here, if you need me…  
I know._


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the great reviews!

Disclaimer: I still don't own!

--

Olivia prays for him desperately, to any god that'll listen.

Okay, initially she prays for John (she's not a perfect person), but realizes that her best, first, most desperate choice is only alive inside her mind.

So she wishes for her second best—her real best. Her actual, still-alive best. Her sunshine.

_You really don't have a best friend?_

She hears clanging in the distance. Her head is pounding violently and her body is shaking like an earthquake. Her heart seizes, fear convulsing her stomach, making her nauseous. She breathes hard, feeling her head spin as someone speaks to her in a tongue she doesn't understand. _There_ _has to be a way out of here._

She feels herself slip away.

--

She wakes slowly, coming to with the bangs of guns close to her head. People rush toward her, and her muscles clench painfully in reaction.

_You really don't have a best friend?_

She sees his face, unusually fraught with worry. She feels his hands all over her, trying to get her out of here. She can't imagine a more reassuring touch.

More people rush past. Her eyes are glued to his.

"You're going to be okay, Liv," he promises, voice stained with angst. He gets her untied and lifts her gently. She notices blood on his shirt and realizes she's leaking.

"I'm leaking." She tells him.

He lets out a strained, panicked, bark of a laugh.

She's delirious. He doesn't say a word, so she says a few: "Will you be my best friend?"

She falls back into black unconscious.

--

She has four bruised ribs, a broken arm, and cuts covering every inch of her, including a large gash in her forehead.

Peter is there, always. He doesn't want to leave her alone. Any other time, she would comment, tell him to leave. Instead, she reaps his presence in selfishly. He _is_ her new best friend, after all.

She wishes she could lean over and touch him. Blindly, she tries, and ends up jostling something, hurting herself. She whimpers, and his eyes fly to her, search alertly for signs of distress.

When he notices what she wants, he moves closer. She drops her hand and smiles at him.

They watch each other, appraising the mood, grasping for words.

His clever comeback drawer must be empty, because he repeats himself: "You really don't have a best friend?"

She ponders for a moment, grin slowly lighting up her beautiful, marred face. Olivia answers just the way he wishes: "I do now."


End file.
